You know who cares about your fantasy team? I do. I care. I care a super whole lot! If I'm at a cocktail party, and I've got the choice between talking to some fucking lawyer about patent litigation and some guy talking about his fantasy team, not only am I taking the fantasy guy, I'm getting his number and arranging a mandate for the next week. Fuck that lawyer right in the pants.

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I'll talk about your fantasy team with you, because talking with you about your fantasy team means talking about players I potentially also own ("Oh, you have MJD? So do I. God, I hope he falls down a fucking gorge."), have owned in the past ("Oh, you have Chad Johnson? I had him last year. You'll love him!") or hope to own in the future ("Oh, you have Joseph Addai! How you like him? I was thinking about trading for him. Let's go somewhere private and feed each other mini-spanakopitas. Later, we can share a bubble bath and soap each other's cocks!").

Talking about your fantasy team means talking about fantasy football in general, which also means talking about football. And I am fucking down with talking about football. It beats talking about my kid. You really don't give a shit about that. I'm also happy to head over to fantasy football message boards and give people start/sit advice. It makes me feel like a big man. I especially like finding the dumbest questions people ask (TOPIC: AM I KRAYZEE?!!! Should I start Najeh Davenport over LT2?) and berating them for even asking the question. Again, this makes me feel smart and cool. Plus, I have a better shot of being right than when I try and answer a legit fantasy question.

Frankly, I'm a little tired of people bitching about people talking about their fantasy teams (shakes fist at Iracane). Everyone plays fantasy football, and everyone likes it. So it's quite natural to want to talk to others about why you'd like Steven Jackson to motherfucking produce or else you'll cut off his areolas with a pair of nail scissors. I'll hear you out on that. Your team doesn't exist in a vacuum. It's not like you're reading your goddamn diary to me. All fantasy owners have plenty in common: players, love of the game, and office ass.

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So feel free to regale me with stories of your fantasy team. It beats all the fucking baseball links I get.

The Games

All games in the Jambaroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Cowboys at Bears: That's right. It's a possible NFC Title Game (soon to be renamed "The Default Bowl") preview. It all comes down to the quarterbacks. On one side, you have Tony Romo, who is calm, composed and works just as hard as his fellow Mexican day laborers. On the other side, you have the Sex Cannon, who plays the position exactly the same way I would. "Holy shit! Look at this! I'm a fucking pro quarterback! Good God, I feel like a fucking rock star. I really did a nice job tucking my jersey in today. It's not coming loose at all. I love how this tape feels around my fingers. Look at those honeys in the third row. I bet I could tag that. That's not Florida pussy, but still. Pussy ain't got no face! That's what I say! Wait, where'd the ball go?"

Four Throwgasms

Chargers at Packers: Back in 2003, the Chargers were the worst team in football. They were 4-12, and their prospects were dim. Before the 2004 season, one anonymous scout in SI said they were the least talented team in the NFL. But that team ended up going 12-4. They are now widely considered to have one of the NFL's most talented rosters from top to bottom. It's such a fine line between what makes a team very bad and what makes a team very good. Except when Norv Turner is the guy running your team. When Norv is in charge, you will invariably find a way to fucking suck.

Niners at Steelers: I saw enough sideline shots of Mike Tomlin last week to fill a stock library. Do we really need to see so many fucking shots of the coach during a game? Why don't you show cheerleaders for more than one second, so that I have time to get my dick out? There's nothing interesting about cutting to coaches on the sideline. Here's what I heard every time the camera cut to Tomlin:

"There's Mike Tomlin, looking on..."

"Mike Tomlin, looking on..."

"And Mike Tomlin looks on..."

"Mike Tomlin, looking on with keen interest..."

"As Mike Tomlin looks on at the play..."

All coaches do is fucking look on. They don't tackle anyone. They don't have tits. STOP FUCKING SHOWING THEM.

Three Throwgasms

Colts at Texans: The Texans? In an important game? Well, slap me with your balls and stick a roll of Lifesavers up my ass! I find it rather amazing that, with the exception of Edgerrin James, no Colts skill position player has suffered much in the way of injury during the Tony Dungy Era. You might think this is attributable to Dungy's signature brand of Quiet Strength and brutal piety. Not so. It's because Dungy hired Large Marge as the team's medical assistant. That'll keep you the fuck out of the training room.

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Cardinals at Ravens: Brian Billick got very annoyed with Eric Mangini this week because he said Mangini instructed his players to illegally simulate the Ravens' snap count. The Ravens, in case you were unaware, go on two every single time. It's one of Billick's trademark offensive innovations.

Lions at Eagles: I find it interesting that Jesus healed Jon Kitna so quickly but never bothered to miraculously heal any of Donovan McNabb's season-ending injuries. Apparently, it's not just the media that don't like them dang quarterblacks.

Bengals at Seahawks

Two Throwgasms:

Bills at Patriots: In the wake of Spygate, many people have openly questioned the role that longtime Belichick friend Ernie Adams serves for the Patriots. Adams has no defined job with the Patriots. But I have it on good authority that Adams is responsible for delivering top secret orange crop reports to Belichick weeks before they are made public. The greedy fucker.

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Giants at Redskins: I live in the DC area, and the Redskins going 2-0 is just about the worst thing that can happen for non-fans such as myself. Now they have a chance to go 3-0, which means the Dead Tree Crew will be out in full force. If you thought Dan Snyder is somehow unique with his deranged sense of entitlement, you were wrong. They're ALL fucking like that down here. And they don't know how to drive, either.

Browns at Raiders: Normally a matchup you'd prefer to avoid, these teams played in two of last week's most enjoyable games. Could they make for a fun matchup when paired together? 678 wacky fans will be on hand in Oakland to find out!

Dolphins at Jets

Rams at Bucs

Jaguars at Broncos

Titans at Saints

One Throwgasm:

Vikings at Chiefs: No pass defense required!

Panthers at Falcons: This game is awful, so allow me to veer off course for a moment. Our office plays a steady rotation of Jack Johnson, REM, Neil Finn, Barenaked Ladies, Donovan Frankenreiter and Counting Crows. As a result, I'm just about ready to jam a corkscrew in my ears. God, I fucking hate REM. And Counting Crows ain't no great shakes either. "I'm almost drowning in her sea"? Jesus. Shoot me in the balls. (Ed. Note: We also hate the Counting Crows, but we do love us some REM. Sorry.)

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Five Players Who Could Fuck Your Fantasy Team Over

• Larry Johnson (RB): Christ, can't he play against a shitty run D for once?

• Reggie Bush (RB): He's like Peter Warrick, only more famous!

• Derek Anderson (QB): Yeah, uh, he's not doing that again

• Larry Fitzgerald/Anquan Boldin (WR): They play the purple team that doesn't suck

Five Players You Might Want To Think About Starting, Only To Have Them Screw You Regardless Of What You End Up Choosing To Do

Last week's suicide pool pick of Denver was correct. So we again pick a suicide pool team and a way of committing actual suicide. This week's pick: New England, and slashing your wrists. I don't get the whole slashing wrists thing. That sounds like the most horrifying way of committing suicide ever. First, you gotta work up the nerve to cut the shit out of yourself. Then, once you do, you're only halfway done. You gotta take the first bloody arm you cut and go and slash your other wrist. What a goddamn mess. Suicide is painless, my ass. Why don't I just go sit on a lawnmower turned upside down while I'm at it? Swallow a bottle of pills, people. That's the easiest way to cry for help. Throw in some whisky and you got a one-man party!

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Nacho Cheese Doritos. They used to make Taco flavored Doritos back in the 80's, which I could eat by the bargeload. But I'll also happily gorge on the Nacho Cheese flavored ones. I like to peer into the bag to see which one has the most amount of industrial-strength cheese dust on it. Then, I make sure that I put the chip into my mouth so that the side with the most dust is the side that's hitting my tongue. You could sprinkle that dust on a floppy disk and I'd eat it.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

Molson Ice. I graduated from normal high school dipshit prep school in 1994, just as the ice beer craze was taking off. Molson Ice was the very first ice beer, ice filtered for more of what you want (alcohol) and less of what you don't (anything that is not alcohol). If you don't think this beer was designed with 17-year-olds in mind, you must work in a government job. Since beer was so hard to get at my school, ice beer was a pivotal innovation. It meant you required less beer on your way to booting your fucking brains out in the dorm gang showers. And for that, I am forever grateful. Bonus points for the flat taste! Molson Ice also came out the same year as Zima, which all the girls drank ("It tastes like Sprite!"). Is your party hopping when you've got Molson Ice and Zima? Fuck and yes.

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I also remembering Molson Ice sponsoring a contest where you got to fly to Tuktoyaktuk, Canada to for their Polar Beach Party featuring Metallica, Hole and Veruca Salt. Watching Veruca Salt in minus 35-degree weather? What a prize!

Sunday Afternoon Film Of The Week For Raider Fans

The Music Of Chance. Based on a Paul Auster book that I never read and probably never will, "The Music Of Chance" features Mandy Patinkin (girliest name for a man ever? You betcha!) and James Spader as two drifters who, after losing a poker bet to two eccentric millionaires, are forced to build a completely useless stone wall in order to pay off their debt. There are a couple noteworthy things about The Music Of Chance. For one, it's the only time James Spader hasn't played a sleazy prick. It also features M. Emmet Walsh, the great character actor who can get stabbed in the hand by Frances McDormand in one film, then turn around and jam that same hand up Chevy Chase's ass in the next. Now THAT is versatility. I also liked the fact that the movie is about two rich people fucking two guys over just to have a laugh. When I'm rich, I'm totally gonna do that. I'm gonna find a Haitian refugee and make him braid my lawn, just to be a dick.

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Gratuitous Simpsons Quote

"You people make me sick! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I SANG AT FARM AID?!"

Halftime Masturbation Kit

• For the guys: The great Jennifer Connolly, seen here making a mechanical horse the sexiest thing ever in Career Opportunities. I'll let my stablemate flubby pay her tribute: "I remember seeing Mulholland Falls and thinking who is she? Who is she? Who is she? Who is she? Who is she? Who is she? Who is she? And so on..."

• "Kyle Orton, what would you be willing to do for a sixer of ice cold, delicious Molson Ice? Listen to Veruca Salt play a concert in Canada? Wow, that's fucking crazy!"

Your Motivational Pregame Quote for The Weekend

"I've been pushed around long enough! This is it! This is your moment, Arthur Pewtey! This is it, Arthur Pewtey! At last, you're a man!"

-Arthur Pewtey

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Correction:

In last week's correction, I said that Chelsea Piers had a dressage facility. Reader Andrew Z. again has alerted me that Chelsea Piers does not, in fact, have such a facility. But they DID have one five years ago. So I was kind of right, which is more right than I usually am. I also saw Meat Loaf at Chelsea Piers once. Don't try and tell me I didn't, Andrew Z.!!!!